


you are the boy that I've been dreaming of

by orphan_account



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Boys in Skirts, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-19
Updated: 2012-10-19
Packaged: 2017-11-16 14:54:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/540673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Sk-skirt,” Shintarou manages to say. “<i>You’re wearing a skirt.</i>” That’s when his hand slips underneath the hem of the skirt and he feels what is unmistakably silk. “Oh my god, are you wearing panties, too?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	you are the boy that I've been dreaming of

**Author's Note:**

> I slapped on an underage warning because this takes place during their Teikou days. Also you really, really should not look for plot because I just...wanted to write porn...with Kise in a skirt.

Shintarou doesn’t know how he ended up here, sitting against the lockers with Kise straddling his lap in a skirt, but he’s too busy trying to figure out whether or not this is a good thing to think about anything else.

“What’s wrong, Midorimacchi?” Kise smirks and takes Shintarou’s hands, guiding them to his ass. Shintarou moans as he starts rubbing himself against them, encouraging Shintarou to--Shintarou’s ears burn--grope him.

“Sk-skirt,” Shintarou manages to say. “ _You’re wearing a skirt._ ” That’s when his hand slips underneath the hem of the skirt and he feels what is unmistakably silk. “Oh my god, are you wearing panties, too?”

“Of course. What else would I be wearing?”

Pants, Shintarou thinks. Boxers. The usual Teikou boys’ uniform, instead of this skirt that exposes Kise’s long, muscled legs. Despite what his brain is telling him about this being wrong, wrong, wrong, though, Shintarou can’t help running his hands down those legs, biting back another moan at how smooth Kise’s skin feels. He could spend hours touching Kise like this, admiring how soft his skin is, biting and sucking until he bruises.

“Midorimacchi likes this, huh?” Kise asks, kissing Shintarou. “I know it gets you hot when I shave.”

“Shut up.” Shintarou pinches the inside of Kise’s thigh. Kise whines low in his throat, and Shintarou is pleased. For some unfathomable reason, Kise enjoys it when it hurts. He’s always encouraging Shintarou to pull his hair, to bite and pinch until he cries out.

Kise grinds down against Shintarou. “Do that again,” he demands. “And kiss me.”

Grumbling, Shintarou does as he’s told. He still can’t believe that Kise is wearing a skirt, of all things (where did he even find one?), but he can admit that there are advantages to it, like easy access to Kise’s legs. His cock is already straining against the front of his slacks: he’ll never tell Kise that he’s right, but Shintarou really does have a...fetish of sorts for how smooth and hairless Kise is.

“Midorimacchi,” Kise gasps against his lips when Shintarou’s hand brushes against Kise’s own erection. “I want to ride you.”

“Don’t say things like that,” Shintarou says. He can feel his blush deepening, but he doesn’t stop Kise when Kise reaches into the gym bag by their side and pulls out a tube of lube.

“Hold out your hand,” Kise says. Shintarou holds out his left hand without thinking, and Kise squeezes a generous amount of lube onto it.

“The taping--” Shintarou starts to say.

“Keep it on.” Kise licks his lips. “I like it that way.” He kneels up and pulls his panties down. Shintarou feels like screaming when he sees that they’re a light green color. Kise is _not funny._

Kise grabs Shintarou’s hand when he stares for too long. “Hurry up, Midorimacchi, I want you inside me _now._ ”

“Don’t be so impatient!” Shintarou pushes a finger inside Kise, wincing a little because his taping is going to be _ruined._ It’s worth it, though, just for the way Kise flushes and moans Shintarou’s name.

Shintarou opens him slowly, holding him still as he adds three more fingers inside him, one at a time. He likes, this, too: seeing Kise squirm and beg for more as Shintarou crooks his fingers, searching for just the right spot, the one that makes Kise scream every time.

“Don’t tease,” Kise says. “Oh, please, please, please, Midorimacchi, I’m ready. I can take your cock now.” He scrabbles at Shintarou’s pants, managing to unzip them and grab his cock before Shintarou even pulls his fingers out.

Shintarou yelps. “You’re such a brat. I told you not to be impa--”

“Lecture later,” Kise says, and sinks down onto Shintarou’s cock. His eyes fall closed, and his mouth parts on a sigh. “Yeah, good...you always feel so good inside me, Midorimacchi.”

Shintarou’s ears are burning. It’s always like this with Kise, no matter how many times they’ve had sex. He’s so open about what he likes, what he wants--and he wants _Shintarou_ , of all people. All those people following him around, and he’s here, fucking himself on Shintarou’s cock like he can’t get enough. He’s a slick, hot tightness around Shintarou. Shintarou doesn’t even have to move. He just strokes Kise’s thighs as Kise lifts his hips and slams them down again. He’s crying out Shintarou’s name, kissing him and gasping, “So good, Midorimacchi, it feels so good. You’re filling me up. I love it. I love--”

Shintarou kisses him, biting his lip. “I want...I want to come on you.” He wraps his hand around Kise’s cock and starts stroking him. “Come first, Kise, and let me come on you.”

Kise’s eyes widen, and then he’s nodding and slamming himself onto Shintarou’s cock even harder, whimpering. Shintarou jerks him off roughly, and it only takes a few moments before Kise comes all over his hand.

Shintarou pulls him off. “Get on your hands and knees,” he says, and Kise complies without protest, even though the concrete floor of the locker room must be uncomfortable for him. His skirt’s been hitched up even further, so Shintarou can see his thighs: red and bruised and streaked with come. The panties are tangled around his knees. Shintarou kneels behind him and starts jerking himself off to the sight. He’s already so close that it doesn’t take long before he’s coming, calling Kise’s name. His come splatters on Kise’s skirt and the back of his thighs, where it drips down.

He can hear Kise’s breath hitch. “Midorimacchi...”

Shintarou slumps back against the lockers. “You’re exhausting,” he mumbles, as Kise gets up and straddles his lap again. “And you’re getting my clothes dirty.”

“Don’t be so fussy.” Kise kisses him. “Hey, Midorimacchi...”

“Shut up,” Shintarou says, and pulls Kise down for another, longer kiss.


End file.
